Chapter 39 OKSANA
Gunshots crack through the attic like thunder. For a second—just one—we’re all frozen, mouths open, hearts stopped. Then everything in me shifts.
The killer, the enforcer, the one Stephano married without fully understanding what that meant. She wakes up and moves into action.
"Scarlet," I snap, already moving, "is there a safe room?"
Scarlet’s eyes are huge. "This—this is the safe room."
She bolts toward the heavy door on instinct. I’m right behind her. The door is metal. Reinforced. She slams it shut and locks it with shaking hands.
"Good," I mutter, pulling out my phone. "Now let’s see who the hell we’re hiding from."
I call Sasha. "Status?"
His voice is clipped, breathless. "Several men breached the perimeter. DeLuna’s men are in a shootout. There’s enough security to handle it, but—"
"But what?"
His pause tells me everything. "The attack came from within."
"Within?" I hiss.
"Toni’s men," Sasha says. "Some of them turned. We think Venezuelan Cells were activated. They’re trying to get to the women."
Of course they are.
The Venezuelans know we took out their chain of command. This is the retaliation. Punishment.
I whirl back around. Sophia is already holding a gun. So is Gigi. They stand like soldiers trained since birth.
Good.
"We’re ready," Sophia says.
"I’m pregnant." Scarlet’s hand flies to her stomach.
Gigi steps in front of her, solid as a wall. "We’ve got you."
Violet is white-faced but steady, phone pressed to her ear. "Pippa?"
She puts whoever Pippa is on speaker, a woman's voice sounds out, strong and steady. "Some of Toni’s men are attacking each other. Stay where you are. Help is coming."
That’s when the banging starts.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
"Signora DeLuna!" a voice yells. "Let me in, it’s me! Igio!"
Scarlet pushes forward. "That’s one of our most trusted men—"
"No."
I grab her arm, forcing her back. She blinks at me.
"Today?" I tell her. "Nobody is trusted."
Her lip trembles, but she nods. I motion the women into a corner, Sophia and Gigi, the two who are armed, slightly in front. Violet is behind them, hands shaking but brave. Scarlet, in the back, is shielding her stomach like a lioness.
I take position beside the door.
I mouth to Scarlet: Say it.
She hesitates, then nods and calls, "I—I’m coming!"
I reach around and open the lock. It clicks quietly, then I crack it open, just enough for Igio to come in first. I grab his arm, yank him sideways, twisting his balance—another man pushes in behind him—Sophia fires, a clean shot into the chest. Followed by two more for good measure.
My eyebrows go up.
Okay.
Respect.
Violet screams, more from adrenaline than fear.
I slam Igio’s head against the wall, just enough to knock him out cold.
Two more attackers rush the door, and I fire.
Once, twice. Both go to the ground, then I shove the door closed with a grunt and lock it again before more can come and try to force their way in.
Breathing hard, I turn around. The women are staring at me. Scarlet is gripping her stomach. Gigi and Sophia have their guns still raised. Violet is pale but nodding.
"Alright," I say, brushing hair from my face, "we wait out the storm."
I gesture at Igio’s unconscious form. "Do you have something to restrain him?"
"Oh—uh—yes!" Scarlet dives into a drawer and pulls out… pink, fluffy handcuffs.
We all stare.
She turns bright red. "They’re real! I promise!"
A few nervous giggles break out. Even I can’t stop the smirk tugging at my mouth.
"I don’t judge," I tell her, snapping them around Igio’s wrists. "Except the bubblegum color." I shake my head.
More giggles.
I search him for his phone, weapon, and radio. All the usual.
My phone buzzes.
SASHA:
Perimeter secured. Safe to come out. Pippa, Vito, and I are coming for you.
I turn to the others. "Call your men. We’re going out with escorts only. No one else."
When we finally open the reinforced door, Sasha, Vito, and Pippa are standing on the other side, guns still in hand, eyes scanning the hall.
Vito nods at Igio’s limp body. "We have a suitable room for this one."
"Good," I say. "Let's go make sure it’s one he won’t enjoy."
Sasha turns to me, "Have you called Stephano yet?"
"I haven't." An idea occurs to me, and I grin wickedly. "You call him. But…"
He arches a brow.
"Make him sweat for a second," I whisper. "Consider it payback for assuming tea with the girls would be boring."
Sasha chuckles appreciatively. "Da, boss."
We descend the steps of the DeLuna mansion—with my new little army of Italian women behind me, adrenaline buzzing in their veins—and I realize something: These women are dangerous in ways their husbands don’t even see.
This might turn out to be more fun than I thought.